


Another Brick in the Wall

by radicallyred



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, High School, M/M, Multi, Multiple Relationships, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:15:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radicallyred/pseuds/radicallyred
Summary: A non-power AU where Steve is a former army captain turned high school history teacher, Tony is the face and former CEO of Stark Industries teaching physics and running the science department because he's trying to turn his life around. Will they stay friends or fall into something more?Oh, and Clint teaches English and wears leather jackets, Bruce is a chemistry teacher who tries to meddle in his friends' relationships, Thor is a sexy firefighter by day and bartender by night. And Natasha’s just a badass.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Ready or Not

**Author's Note:**

> If you're thinking _hey, i've read this before_ you're correct. I posted this a couple of years ago, hated it, and did some major soul searching. Here we are now.

Steve wakes to the annoying sound of marimba.

Steve groans, reaching over to slap at his phone. Dodger, the dog he rescued this summer, stood up, getting in Steve’s face. 

"Okay, buddy," he says around a yawn. “Let’s go.” He turns over as Dodger jumps off the bed, running off toward the kitchen. 

All right. First day of school. 

He crawls out of bed, lets Dodger outside and makes some coffee, munching on a banana as he waits. He flips the calendar from August to September and tries to fight the disappointment he feels in the pit of his stomach. 

It had been a long summer. He spent some time with his mom, helping her get settled in her new townhouse that was easier on her knees. Steve read a new book, bought a new set of bath towels. He spent a couple of weeks at Bucky’s place upstate, spending time with his best friend before the man got deployed for another tour. 

The pair of them joined the Army right out of high school. Steve was a scared, vulnerable eighteen-year-old kid who knew there was no amount of scholarships or financial aid that could send him through college fully covered. Bucky, in true Barnes fashion, followed in his father’s and grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s footsteps and had plans to enlist as soon as he could. So he and Bucky enlisted, were shipped off and spent three years in Afghanistan. Steve became Captain and finished out his Army days on base in Washington D.C. while simultaneously getting his degree in education.

Steve sighs as he leans over the kitchen counter, admiring his collection of cups that do not match and tries not to think about it much. He downs a cup of coffee, does his morning exercises and jumps in the shower. He has lived here, in this little Brooklyn apartment, since he moved out of his ma’s when he was twenty-nine and fresh out of the Army. 

His apartment is full of old things from his mom; the sofa, the curtains, the t.v. stand, and even the dishes in the cabinets. He had managed to acquire a respectable amount of furniture, though, most of which came from Target. His apartment is nice enough, though he can’t remove the dent in the wall from the time when Bruce got too drunk and threw a full beer at Clint, who dodged the can just narrowly. 

(Not that he blames Bruce, but he’s a bit pissed he probably won’t get his security deposit back.)

When he finishes showering and drying his hair, he goes to the closet to look over his wardrobe options. He’s an AP United States History teacher at one of the most prestigious schools in the city and, if he’s honest, his students could probably teach the course. He teaches fifteen through eighteen year olds, he’s got no one to impress. He settles on a deep blue button down and khakis. It's a classic look, and Steve is proud of it. 

Although he hates getting up early in the morning and having to spend his nights correcting, he likes his job. Well, he likes it most of the time. When no one asks him for a trillionth time to explain something he’d said before or when he doesn’t have to write detention slips, he likes his job. He likes to work with children, to carry out works and to be paid to talk about history all day.

"You like your job," he says to his reflection in the mirror before shutting off the light and heading to the kitchen.

He leaves Dodger with a bowl of food and water, a pat on the head, then it's a final check in the mirror and out the door, backpack hanging from his shoulder. He spends his way thinking about what the year might bring him, and sending up a quick prayer that he gets a pass on another cold and flu epidemic.

His usual parking spot awaits him when he enters the parking lot. Steve had returned less than a month ago for meetings and to set up his room, but it feels like he hasn’t been there in months. A flashy red sports car catches his eye, but he doesn’t think anything of it. He figures some math teacher went through a midlife crisis and was trying to impress them on the first day. 

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed.

He walks inside and says good morning to each person he passes. He sees Clint as he turns down the hallway, a large coffee in one hand and his messenger bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder. He still looks half asleep, and no one can expect Steve to let go of that grumpy face without commenting on it.

"Good morning, starshine!" Steve bellows forcefully, laughing when Clint winces.

Clint frowns at him and Steve smiles in response, pleased that there is at least one person in the world who hates mornings as much as he does. "Fuck off," he murmurs.

"Mr. Barton, watch your language," Steve says with mock horror. “Impressionable minds, remember?” 

"I’m giving you three seconds to get away from me or I’m chucking this at your head." He says holding up his coffee mug. 

"I love you too," says Steve, and they separate, Clint goes down the stairs and Steve continues down the hall to get to his classroom.

He and Clint joined the staff in the same year and became best friends almost immediately. Clint started as a long term substitute and was eventually picked up full time when the previous teacher retired. With them in their little group was Natasha Romanoff, school psychologist and overall badass. Steve swears she could double as a spy, and she doesn’t discredit that idea. 

They have earned a reputation as mischievous and Steve does not see it entirely fair. Sure, they stole beer goggles from Dr. Strange’s health room and administered sobriety tests to random students in passing last fall. Then there was the one time they accidentally put glitter on the air ducts as a graduation prank.

Both have valid alibis for when Principal Fury’s car appeared on the roof, and somehow Loki Laufeyson— world history teacher with a fascination in mythology—ended up taking the blame. But even if they had been hypothetically involved, it would have been Clint's idea. 

Hypothetically.

In their second year, Dr. Bruce Banner, scientist extraordinaire, was hired to teach Chemistry, mostly AP, almost as soon as he left some fancy lab in France. They met in the teacher’s lounge, bonded over shitty ramen noodles and comedy shows. He is a good man, relaxed as himself and always reliable, although he is more likely to sit down and laugh at his plans rather than participate in them. 

Steve knows that they are considered "cool" teachers. He knows that Clint is the funny one, whose classes are eagerly awaited at the beginning of the year. Steve has heard on numerous occasions that he’s the “hot one”. _(He once heard one of his students refer to him as having "America's Ass", and he wasn’t able to look her in the face for the rest of the year.)_ Bruce was the mellow one, except the one time he yelled at his class. That incident earned him a slogan “you won’t like Dr. Banner when he’s angry.”

Natasha doesn’t visit them often during lunch, that’s usually her busiest time of day, but she’s known for dropping by during their shared planning periods to steal snacks from Steve’s secret stash in the bottom drawer of his desk. 

Natasha is standing outside of Steve’s room with a grocery bag in hand. 

“Figured I should stash some snacks before Clint gets to them. There’s good coffee in here, too, that you’re going to put on immediately.” Steve laughs, nudging past her to unlock his door. 

He brews coffee and rolls his eyes as he watches Natasha hide her good snacks in the back of the closet. He sips slowly at his coffee and tries to let the caffeine seep into his brain. He has to spend all day trying to prevent a group of adolescents from going into a vegetative state while he talks about the syllabus. 

In his first year, he shared a room with one of the other history teachers since he only had one section. When he was asked to teach grade 10 history and a sudden increase in AP U.S history came about, they moved him to an old room off the corner of the science and math wing. 

It's not much, but it's his. Kind of like everything else in his life, if he's honest.

Nat leaves him with a fond hand in his hair, ruffling playfully, as the first bell rings. Students begin to enter slowly, small groups settling in random seats. Steve sees several familiar faces. He has been enough in the corridors to have seen them there at some point or another, and many of those had been in his previous classes or have been in at least one of his study halls. By the time the bell sounds there is only one pair that does not recognize, either because they are new or because they have managed to fly off his radar. 

Excellent. The first day is always fun. Nobody knows what to expect from him.

Steve closes the door and takes a seat on his desk, clasping his hands together.

"We are going to skip the part where I say good morning and you repeat it as if you were happy to be out of bed this early." A kind of nervous laugh runs through the room and Steve smiles. He had forgotten that he’s pretty good at this.

"As most of you know, my name is Mr. Rogers," he continues. "Before anyone asks, I'm from Brooklyn, I'm a Cancer and I enjoy long walks to the vending machines, and Peter, I hope your aunt makes those magic bars again for the evening study session we’ll have before the AP exam in May."

Another laugh Steve feels part of the tension leaving the classroom.

"I'm sure many of you think that this is an easy way to get good grades without having to try too hard. It's fine, nothing to be ashamed of. How do you think I got through college?” He jokes, the class laughing softly. "But if you think you can skate by without ever opening a book or doing your homework, you’re wrong.” Steve stands, grabs a stack of paper and begins to pass out the syllabus. “We will cover American history ranging over seven periods, all listed in this packet here. We will study some of the greatest writers, speakers, debaters and politicians in history. We will read and write a lot. It's going to be tough but it will also be fun, I swear. If you don’t have fun at least once, you have full permission to sock me in the jaw.”

With the ice broken enough, Steve continues with important dates for the year and explains his correction policy. The rest of the day follows the same path, and when lunchtime arrives, Steve feels somewhat pleased with his work.

There is more than one teacher's lounge in the school, of course, but there is only one in this hall. So, naturally, he claimed it as his own by the end of his first month. It is the smallest of all, just a table, four chairs and a small single restroom attached. Small, but definitely good enough, and everyone knows that the lunches there belong to Clint, Steve and Bruce. They all pitched in for a mini-fridge, and Bruce brought in an old microwave. 

Steve sighs while taking a seat while talking about his personal plans for the year. 

"Obviously I'm going to keep the debate team," Steve tells them, "but how about I split them up? Assign one half to the fall and the other to the spring? They’re mostly sophomores and juniors, and I don’t anticipate adding any freshmen this year." Steve says around a mouthful of his sandwich.

"I think that sounds like a great idea,” Bruce says. “It means I don’t have to listen to how horrible Mr. Rogers is all year. The less I have to hear about you, the better.” 

“Need I remind you I helped save your ass from a chemical fire last semester?” Steve asks with a calculated look. Bruce looks defeated, dropping his gaze. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

*****  
The rest of the week goes by smoothly, and Steve slowly begins to get used to the routine. It feels nice to have some purpose after months of walking on water. For the most part, their students seem already enthusiastic about the most practical parts of the classes, and only complain a little when they are assigned to read for the weekend. All in all, it's a good start, and when Steve lies down on Friday night with Dodger and take-out, he's not unhappy with himself.

It's his life, and it's mostly quiet, lonely nights and the places where bitterness made him harder inside years ago, but it's okay, and he does the best he can to ignore the stinging feeling in his stomach.

It’s the following Tuesday afternoon, and Steve is setting up for his speech and debate meeting for after school. He’s not sure why, in a world that contains iPhones, the basic sound equipment requires enough cables to strangle an average-sized bear. Surely this has already been solved. Surely there are scientists using their science to fix this. Isn’t that what science is for?

Bruce brought the speakers and the audiovisual equipment cart, and then came back with a huge plastic storage bin. “Anything you need should be here," he told him, probably being perfectly aware of the hell he was punishing Steve. The bastard.

Fifteen minutes later, Steve is rummaging through the bin, not finding the cable he needs to connect his laptop to the speakers. He had planned to make them listen to speeches and analyze them, so his students could decide which type of speech they were interested in. And he would be fucked if they were to listen to Denzel Washington and Barack Obama give inspirational speeches through the farting speakers of his secondhand MacBook. Some things are sacred.

Sacred or not, the meeting would have to be postponed if he could not find the _fucking_ cable he needed. He grumbles as he continues his hunt among the dozens of black cables that remain there.

After an eternity, he finds the cable that he thinks is the right one, right at the bottom. Blessed be the sweet USB compatibility, he thinks. He plugs it in, expecting to hear Obama’s beautiful baritone… and is met with static.

“You’ve got to be _shitting_ me.” He exclaims. In a mild state of anger, he tosses the top of the bin and watches it as it slams against the wall on the other side of the hallway. 

"Um, is everything okay?" Says a voice, obviously holding in laughter.

There is one person in the classroom. Steve whips his head to the door, a blush already forming on his cheeks.

"Yes, everything is fine!" He says happily. "That was totally intentional. Just practicing for ultimate frisbee."

He finally looks up to see who he nearly took out with a three-by-three plastic container.

Oh. _Oh._

Standing in front of him in all his glory is Tony Stark; former CEO of Stark Industries, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. And teacher, now, apparently. A teacher who is now a witness to one of the most embarrassing moments of Steve’s life. Great. 

Steve has the sudden urge to catch fire himself. He knew Tony Stark was handsome, but he’d never really seen the man up close. Dark hair, bright brown eyes and a smile that Steve likes so much that he feels slightly violated. And nobody should look so good at two-thirty on a Thursday afternoon in suit pants and rolled sleeves. He is leaning on the classroom door frame, watching him with an amused smirk.

“Well, please continue. I’d hate to get in the way of your rather impressive throwing. You ever considered track and field? You could definitely get the gold in the Olympics.”

Steve blinks. He is still there. Self-combustion is increasingly attractive. At least Clint could flirt with the front office secretary he's obsessed with about Steve's burned remains. Some good could come from this. 

He pulls himself out of his stupor and looks for words that won’t make him sound like a complete idiot. 

“I don’t know about gold. Bronze, maybe.”

Tony laughs and detaches himself from the frame of the door. "I'm Tony Stark," he says. "I’m the new head of the science department, I take care of AP Physics.” He says walking fully into the room, extending his hand to Steve. He takes it and shakes it briefly, trying not to focus on how soft his skin was.

“Do you need some help with the rest?” He asks, gesturing towards the laptop. "I can handle a speaker. I’m pretty good with technology."

"If you don’t mind?” Steve says. Tony moves closer to him, taking the cable from Steve’s hands. “My friends call me the man out of time for a good reason.”

"That’s why I offered,” Tony jokes. “You know, you never told me your name, Mr. man-out-of-time.” 

"Steve Rogers," He says, extending his hand. “Sorry, I’ve had quite the day.” Tony's smile widens. 

“No worries, we’ve all been there," Tony says shaking his hand. He swears he can feel the metaphorical spark surge through his veins. Neither man pulls away, staring into each other's eyes. “So! That speaker.” Tony says pulling back suddenly. He fiddles with the cords for a moment before Obama’s deep baritone is ringing through the classroom. 

“My hero, truly.” Steve teases. “Thank you, Tony.” Tony shrugs, claps Steve on the back. 

“Anytime. See you around?” Steve nods and watches as he leaves. 

If he watches his ass as he goes, well, no one needs to know.


	2. Bottoms Up

Later that night, Bucky Skypes him, and he feels bad because he’s half-listening to his friend, mostly thinking about Tony. 

“Okay, punk. What’s on your mind?” Bucky finally asks. “You’re thinking so hard I can see the wheels in your head turning.” Steve frowns, biting his cheek. 

“There’s a new guy at work.” He starts and rolls his eyes when Bucky whistles. “Buck, it’s Tony Stark.” 

“Tony Stark? Like _the_ Tony Stark? As in--” 

“Yes. Yes, that Tony Stark.” 

“He teaches now?” Bucky ponders. “He's big into philanthropy and giving back, I guess.” 

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” Steve admits. “He’s...well, he’s gorgeous. And nice, and charismatic, and--”

“Stevie’s got a little crush, huh?” Bucky smirks. Steve pouts, brows furrowed, but the blush that paints his face gives him away. 

“Talk to him! You haven’t been with anyone since Peggy, what, four years ago?” Steve sighs. He hadn’t thought of his ex-girlfriend in months. They dated for three years and he was enamored with her. He was ready to propose and everything when she called it off, subsequently breaking his heart. He hadn’t been with anyone serious since. 

“I’ve...been with people.” Bucky scoffed. 

“I mean real connections. Dates that don’t end with your dick in someone’s mouth.” 

“Bucky,” Steve groaned. “Just… I’ll try, okay? But I don’t even know if he likes men.” 

“Have you looked at yourself, buddy? He’d fall to his knees in an instant if you let him.” 

“Didn’t you just say you wanted me to go on a date without getting my dick sucked?” Steve shoots back. Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. There’s murmured voices on Bucky’s side of the screen, followed by Bucky barking out an “aye, Sir.” 

“Just trust me, Steve. Ask him out.” He shrugs back into his jacket. “I gotta go, duty calls.” 

“Stay safe, Buck.”

“Always. I’ll talk to you soon.” 

At lunch the next day, Clint dismisses any concerns and continues to put chips in his mouth. 

"You met the new guy, huh?"

Steve keeps his head buried in his hands. 

Clint reaches out and steals a Dorito from Steve's bag. Steve lets out a shocked sound and slaps his hand. "Hey, I'm just making sure they’re not poisonous, buddy," Clint says smugly, before stuffing another chip into his mouth. "But back to your crush.” Steve grunts and buries his face in his sandwich. 

“Come on, Clint. He’s probably not even into guys, and he’s probably involved with someone.” 

“Give yourself some credit, Steven. When was the last time you got laid?” Steve sputters around a mouthful of his sandwich when he hears a chuckle from the doorway. He looks up and wants to melt into the floor when he sees Tony and Bruce standing there.

“Hey, guys. This is Tony Stark, head of the science department. I figured he could join us if that’s alright.” Bruce says. Clint looks at Steve with knowing eyes and the asshole fucking winks at him. 

“Of course!” Clint says scooting away from Steve so Tony can pull his chair next to him. 

“Steve, nice to see you again. Glad to see you weren’t taken over by robots.” Tony smirks, clapping his hand on Steve’s back as he sits. 

“You’ve met?” Bruce asks, taking his own seat. 

“Yeah. Tony helped me with the wire situation, no thanks to you.” Steve shoots a look at Bruce who shakes his head playfully. 

"Sorry," He says dismissively. “I had a lab to get to.” 

“I talked to Bucky last night. He says hi, and hopes you guys are well. Next time he’s home we’re going for drinks.”

"Oh, right!" Says Clint. "We still going out tonight?” 

“Drinks are on you, though. Since you bailed on us last time.” Steve says, pointing his bottle of water at him.

“What?!” Clint argues. “Man, that doesn’t even make sense!”

“You bail, you buy. Besides, canceling plans to hook up with your ex is a bad excuse.” Steve shrugs. 

“That’s a good rule,” Tony says. “But, you guys could come to my place sometime, if you want. We can order food, I have a fully stocked bar.” Tony suggests. “Shakespeare over here could play bartender.” They laugh at that, Clint grumbling a little. 

“I told Thor I’d come by the bar tonight,” Steve says regretfully. “But you’re welcome to come. We can invite Natasha, too.” Tony smiles brightly at Steve. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” Steve smiles back and Tony turns, diving headfirst into a conversation about science with Bruce. 

Steve just watches, unable to take his eyes off the man. His eyes linger on Tony’s lips, wondering if they actually feel as soft as they look. He’s brought back to his conversation with Bucky last night, and can’t help but wonder what those bright pink lips would look like wrapped around-- _no. Not here._

As he drags his eyes up to Tony’s own, the man catches his glance and winks at him, making Steve’s stomach drop and a blush creeps onto his cheeks. 

It’s later in the evening when Steve arrives at the bar. He is clearly the first one there, seeing only Thor behind the bar. 

“Hey, Thor.” He says as he takes a seat at the center of the bar. 

“Steven! A pleasure to see you. Will you be having your usual?” 

“Please.” Thor turns to grab a tall glass and sets it under the tap of Guinness. “So, how are things going at the fire station?” 

“Oh, can’t complain. I’d be there full time if this place wasn’t so important to dad.” Thor shrugs as he slides Steve his beer. 

“I know it.” Before Steve can say another word, Natasha and Clint come walking through the door, Clint talking a mile a minute. 

“Hi boys,” Natasha says as she takes a seat next to Steve. “I’ll do a White Russian, Thor. And open a tab under lover boy, over here.” 

“Lover boy, huh?” Steve smirks. “I take it your date with Laura went well?” 

“Better than. She wants to see me tomorrow night. And you know what they say about third dates.” 

“How did _you_ manage to get a third date?” Steve looks up suddenly, startled by Tony’s voice. “Does she have a third eye or something?” Tony winks, sitting on the other side of Steve. 

"Oh come on, Stark," Clint mutters. “You’re just jealous.”

“Oh right. Because I’m dying to get my rocks off with an English teacher who thinks Shakespeare is God’s gift to Earth.” The group laughs and Steve tries to ignore the way his stomach turns.

So he’s not interested in teachers. Steve tries not to look too disappointed and looks down into his beer. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Tony. I’m Natasha Romanoff. It’s nice to have someone else to patronize Clint.” Steve chuckles awkwardly, trying to focus on anything but the warmth radiating from Tony. 

“I patronize everybody. It’s kind of my thing.” Tony turns to Steve rather suddenly. “Promise I won’t get you too bad, buddy. I wouldn’t wanna corrupt an All-American athlete.”

“I spent ten years in the Army. I’m about as corrupted as a man can get.” Steve laughs, tugging at the sleeve. 

“Army, huh?” Tony asks, leading the way to an empty table. “I take it you didn’t get those muscles of yours doing track and field, then?” Steve chuckles, casting a glance down once more. 

“No, no track. Two tours in Afghanistan, became Captain and then moved to D.C to finish off the contract. Moved back to Brooklyn about three years ago. I’ve been teaching ever since.” Tony whistles as he slides into the booth. “What made you want to teach?” Steve asks suddenly. “Sorry, I just… I don’t understand why a guy who has everything is teaching high schoolers about gravity.” Tony laughs, leaning back against the cushion. The rest of the group had joined, off in their own conversation. Clint and Bruce taking the empty space beside Tony and Natasha sliding in beside Steve. 

“Well, I hated being CEO. Too much work, not enough fun. I hired an intern, a brilliant kid at the school. He was bitching that his favorite physics teacher was retiring so I swooped in and got the job.” Steve just stares at him. "I may or may not have made a sizable donation to the Board of Education, too."

“Your intern wasn’t Peter Parker, was it?” Steve has to ask. Peter Parker has been in Steve’s class for two years now. He first met Peter as a freshman in his World History class, then got to know him very well last year on speech and debate. He's thrilled to have him again in APUSH. He’s a bright, good kid. It’s no surprise that he’d want to hang around with Tony Stark. 

“You know him? Kids a genius, he’s definitely going places.” Tony takes a sip of his drink. 

“Yeah, he’s in my class this year. And he’s on speech and debate.” Steve says. “He’s a great kid.” 

“He’s a great kid who calls Steve Captain America,” Clint adds around a mouthful of nachos. Tony laughs and Steve can’t help the way his stomach swoops. He looks too damn good with his head tilted back, neck exposed. If Steve was close enough he could just press his lips to his Adam’s Apple and-- okay. Nope. Can’t go there. 

_Remember what happened last time you dated a colleague._ He thinks to himself, downing the rest of his beer. 

__

“Captain America, huh?” Tony says. “Well, Cap, let's get you a refill.” Tony works his way out of the booth. Natasha climbs over Steve, who promptly stands up and follows Tony to the bar. 

__

The night ends a few hours later after Clint loses a shot-for-shot contest with Steve. 

__

“Fuck, Steve.” Clint groans. “Why do I hang out with you again?” He questions, leaning on Nat as he closes his eyes. 

__

“You make me look hotter.” Steve chuckles. 

__

“Please.” Tony scoffs. “You look great without birdbrain over here standing next to you.” Steve can’t find any words, he just stares at Tony with his lips parted, blinking at him. Tony leans forward and just to the right of Steve, but his chin is still hooked over Steve’s shoulder, lips right at his ear.

__

“Close your mouth,” Tony murmurs in his ear as he places some bills on the bar. “You’ll give a guy some ideas if you don’t.” And with a wink, Tony is gone leaving Steve with one thought:

__

What the _fuck_ just happened?

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the support! a kudos and comment would mean the world.  
> also letting you know right now that the posting schedule is non-existent because I suck and also have no concept of time


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